Had Lely’s riotous Olympians and deep-drinking Wizards looked down from the painted ceiling that depicted Merlin and Arthur ascendant – as they might well have done, Wizarding paintings being what they were – they had noted, with approval (for Lely was always less restrained in his magical than in his Muggle commissions), Draco’s appearance.Harry was certainly gazing on it with pleasure: the deep rose that had suffused Draco’s cheek, the parted, glossy lips, the dilated, glassy eyes, and the general air of stunned exhilaration.

‘D’you think,’ gasped Draco, with that unfeigned inconsequence that is the true mark of one left bouleversé by one’s lover, ‘that Albie and Scorpius kiss like that in private?’

Draco shivered, deliciously, as Harry leant in, his apple-sweet breath hot on Draco’s ear in a way always premonitory of the nibbling that unstrung Draco every time.Harry chortled.‘Those randy little fauns?Love, they kiss like that in public.Let me see can we better what they must get up to in private, hmm?’And Draco was lost in a deep, dominating kiss that left him undone, collapsing bonelessly against the oaken-panelled wall that Gibbons had declared wanted no improvement.He rather saw than felt Harry pull him to his feet and bundle him away to bed.

Hanging breathless and wide-eyed over the fantastic balustrade, Albus had only time to breathe, ‘Go, Dad‘, before his own sole love, inspired by a fever of rivalry, dragged him away.

Dear God. I missed this in its original posting (femme just located the missing link). Should perhaps not have read in a public place. Beautiful, both visually and in the etching of sentiments. Enjoying the use of 'bouleversé' rather overmuch.